Your sign—LOST CAT: REWARD—haunts my neighborhood. I'm sure some little kid is crying. Well, I've seen your cat. And your cat is dead. But where's the reward in telling you that your cat was flattened in traffic because you were too irresponsible to keep it inside, where it belonged? Do you want to know the details? That his white fur was spattered with blood and guts? That he died a painful and lonely death in the middle of a busy street? Or do you want to continue to believe that he found a pack of pals and prefers evenings catting around the canyon?

I'm the one who reports the splattered kitten on Victoria, the dumped dog on Bristol, and the basket of domestic rabbits strewn across Alton . . . all found last week. I register a report with OC Animal Control, and they dispatch the poor bastard who has to scoop them up and respectfully dispose of their remains. We show more compassion by reporting and scooping up remains than you did by letting Fluffy wander off into the night, fully aware of the dangers of SUVs and coyotes.

Keep your animals inside. I'm tired of seeing LOST fliers with Fluffy and Sparky on street corners. I call in no less than a dozen mutilated, battered and bloodied cases every week while you naively wonder what could have possibly happened to your perky pals. There's your reward.